


Not That Bad

by thisisallbullshit



Series: Everything's Okay [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mickey's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisallbullshit/pseuds/thisisallbullshit
Summary: Takes place during 3.08.Mickey helps the Gallaghers out with their house problem.





	Not That Bad

Mickey stepped out of the shower and picked up his phone to find three notifications, two from Ian and one from Mandy. Unsurprising, since they were the only ones who ever bothered to text him. He checked the ones from Ian first and almost choked at the first message.

** come over to my house for dinner **

Mickey was already preparing a rant about how they’re not boyfriend and girlfriend and he was _so_ not down for this meet-the-parents bullshit when he read the next one.

** not a date. business opportunity **

Mickey didn’t really know what the fuck that meant, and Mandy’s text didn’t offer much in the way of clarification either.

**_bring ur ass over to the gallaghers_ **

Having nothing better to do, Mickey threw on some clothes and left his house, sending them both a text saying he was on the way. When he turned onto North Wallace Street a few minutes later, he got another text from Ian.

** u can let urself in through the back door **

Mickey rounded the house, feeling somewhat nervous. The only time he’d been in the Gallagher house before was when he was laying on the kitchen table, gripping Ian’s hand as the husband of the bitch who shot him pulled a bullet out of his ass. Kind of a fucked up first impression to make on Ian’s family.

As he stepped into the dining room through the back door, he was relieved to find only Ian and Mandy in the kitchen waiting for him.

“The fuck’s this about?” he asked.

Lip strutted down the stairs cockily and said mockingly, “Oh, relax, Milkovich. We’re just in need of your services.”

Mickey’s eyes darted to Ian and Mandy who were busy pulling a frozen pizza out of the oven and getting plates from the cabinet.

“Are any of you gonna fuckin’ explain, or…?”

Ian offered him a quick, assuring smile before turning towards the living room, “Kids! Dinner!” He turned back to Mickey and finally addressed him directly, “We need your advice, and possibly a favor. Sit down.”

Mickey took a seat between Ian and some 12-year-old kid with a buzzcut who was staring at him with interest. “You’re Mickey Milkovich? Can you show me your gun? Can you teach me how to scalp someone?” he inquired eagerly.

Mickey had no clue what to say, but luckily, Ian stepped in, “Leave him alone, Carl, and eat your dinner,” then turned back to Mickey, handing him a plate with food on it and beginning to explain, “So, basically, our cousin Patrick out-Gallagher’d us.”

“He’s trying to take our house-” Lip elaborated.

“-And we’ll be left with nowhere to go,” a ginger girl at the end of the table continued, “But I thought we were going with option two: say Ginger was crazy?”

“Turns out it’s hard to prove Ginger wasn’t of sound mind when she signed the will, Debbie,” Mandy explained.

“Yeah, we would need to have proof she was declared incompetent, and one of us would have to be her power of attorney. Lotta fake paperwork we’d have to draw up,” Lip went on.

“And we definitely can’t do it all by the probate hearing on Thursday,” Ian added.

At this point, Mickey was getting a headache. He’d never really been around more than one Gallagher at once, and watching them talk felt like watching a tennis match with five players instead of two. All this active listening and conversation involving more than two people was decidedly _not_ something he was used to from his own family.

“So, we move onto option three: kill Patrick?” Carl asked excitedly, mouth full of half-chewed pizza.

Mickey finally piped up, “Did you bring me here to murder your cousin?” he asked incredulously- the Gallagher’s really didn’t seem like the types to order a hit out on anybody, let alone their own blood.

Just when Ian, Lip, and Mandy looked like they were about to protest, the back door opened, some yuppie-looking asshole bounded inside.

“Shouldn’t you be at work with Fiona, Jimmy?” Ian asked.

Jimmy shuddered. “No fucking way was I working there. Bugs all up in my clothes, smelled terrible. Disgusting, not for me.” What a pussy.

“So, you left your girlfriend to shovel blood and shit all by herself?” Lip asked with a scowl.

“I got a job at the Coffee Beanery!”

“Great, so even if we do get the house back, we’re all gonna starve to death by winter, because you can’t handle a job that pays more than minimum wage,” Ian snarked.

Jimmy opted to ignore him and instead looked at Mickey. “Who’s this?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, unused to people not knowing him and his reputation. “Mickey Milkovich.”

The asshole frowned. “I feel like I remember Fiona specifically saying that Mickey Milkovich wasn’t allowed in the house,” he said, which earned a snort from Mickey and Mandy and an eye roll from Ian.

“He’s here to help with the Patrick thing,” Mandy explained, “So anyway, _no_ , we’re not hiring Mickey to kill Patrick. Yet. That’s option four.”

“Option three is get Patrick to back off,” Debbie piped up.

“We need you to go scare him, pistol whip him or whatever,” Ian said.

“Well, depending on your price,” Lip amended.

“A beating costs $500,” Mickey said automatically, relieved that they were finally to a place he understood- he’s been doing this shit since he was a kid. Any comfort was squashed, however, at the looks of everyone around the table. They’d all fallen silent, with thoughtful and stressed-out expressions on their faces. Mickey’s eyes naturally found Ian, who’s brow was furrowed and looked older than his 17 years. Mickey also noticed that he and Lip hadn’t taken any pizza, and had instead gone hungry, presumably to make sure everyone else was fed. Mickey wondered how many meals they’d given up for the sake of their family, and, before he could stop himself, blurted out, “Or $200.”

All of their eyes shot towards Mickey, looking inquisitive, except Ian, who looked like he was holding back a sappy smile. Mickey dragged his eyes away from him when he felt his cheeks redden. “So long as Mandy helps me move some meth next week,” he quickly amended.

“Deal,” Mandy readily agreed. Mickey nodded.

“Well, that’s probably settled, but we’ll still have to talk to Fiona before anything is set in stone. She should be home soon,” Lip said, and with that, they all resorted to focusing on eating and talking amongst themselves. Mickey watched a baby in a high chair play with a toy, Carl viscously destroy the remainder of his food, Mandy give Debbie advice about how to do her makeup for school, and Lip and Ian speaking quietly about the situation they were in. It was weird for Mickey, he was really not used to Ian being so serious and looking so solemn, as opposed to his usual relaxed and smug self. Mickey also realized that all the alone time he’d had with Ian lately spoiled him, because at the moment, he was closer to the bottom in Ian’s list of priorities, something Mickey was no longer used to and found he disliked.

No sooner did Mickey think that, though, Ian rubbed his leg along Mickey’s under the table. Mickey wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a “thank you” or a kind of comfort, but whatever it was calmed Mickey down.

Fiona walked in through the front door only a few minutes later, arguing a bit with her douchey boyfriend before making her way to the kitchen, eyeing Mickey suspiciously before turning a confused look on her siblings. They explained their dilemma with proving the will to be fake and proposed the idea of Mickey scaring Patrick off. She initially disapproved vehemently, but apparently Ian wasn’t the only Gallagher who could turn on the puppy eyes, because she melted under all of their pleading looks and Ian’s emphatic “ _We need a house._ ”

At once, they all stood up, pulling all the loose cash out of their pockets, and Mickey was surprised to find Mandy doing the same. It was so opposite at their own home, which basically ran on the ideology of “every man for himself.”

They scraped together $192 and Mickey told them it was good enough.

That was how later that night, Mickey ended up in some workshop with his idiot oldest brother, Tony, two baseball bats, and a .22 tucked into his pants.

“Hey. Look, you need to, uh, back off the Gallagher house,” he demanded slightly awkwardly, “If you don’t, you’ll be sorry.”

Tony held up his bat in a way that was supposed to be threatening, but wasn’t at all really- the dumb asshole was tweaking, and looked like he couldn’t walk right, let alone swing a bat. That was probably why Patrick was able to take him down so easily.

“Fuck’s sake,” Mickey sighed in annoyance and pulled out his gun, aiming it right at the fat asshole.

“A .22? Sure it’ll stop me?” Patrick asked condescendingly.

“Wanna find out?” Mickey replied, not missing a beat. “What the fuck are you doing?” he called out to Tony without taking his eyes off Patrick, “Get up and knock him on his ass. I got him covered.” That was when he heard the all-too-familiar sound of a rifle being cocked behind him.

“I’d like you to meet the wife, Ellen,” Mickey wanted to punch the cocky bastard right in his smug face. “Now drop your gun. Kick it over to me. Bat, too.” Mickey was forced to comply, knowing these assholes really would shoot him, and at this range, the rifle would likely kill him. “That chain looks nice. Why don’t you kick that over to me, too?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Mickey protested, but Ellen stepped closer, pressing the gun into Mickey’s back. He huffed angrily, but removed his favorite chain from around his neck, dropping it to the ground with his weapons.

“Great, now get the fuck out.”

* * *

 

When Mickey stormed back into the Gallagher house, he was met with hopeful looks from the whole family that made him feel like shit. Lip and Fiona made snarky remarks after he’d explained what happened, which only proved to piss him off more.

“Am I getting my money back?” Fiona demanded.

“Fuck you. Minus a hundred. That jackass took my chain.”

They all rolled their eyes, except Ian. Mickey actively tried to avoid his pleading gaze, but it was too late, he couldn’t ignore it. He pulled the cash out and threw it onto the counter, the full $192. Ian was _definitely_ going to be the death of him.

As he marched out, he heard Fiona’s surprised voice say, “ _Wait, he gave us all our money back after all_ ,” and Ian’s defensive, “ _I told you he’s not that bad_.” Mickey smiled a little to himself as he slammed the door shut behind him.


End file.
